


No Unwounded Soldiers

by Minxie



Category: Original Work
Genre: KINK: D/s, M/M, Warning: PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-01
Updated: 2012-09-01
Packaged: 2017-11-13 08:51:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minxie/pseuds/Minxie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a yearlong tour of duty, Alex comes home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Unwounded Soldiers

**Author's Note:**

> **Beta/Prereaders:** @aislinntlc, @thraceadams, @leela_cat, and kaydeejay  
>  **AN:** This was supposed to be a short, sweaty piece of porn for Bring Back the Porn. Somehow shit like plot and backstory worked its way into my porn and now I kinda want to write novels about these two idiots. Joy. Also, it's not overly pornish. Especially considering the fest it was written for. Good lord.

The bass line thrums beneath Alex's feet before he's even inside the club. His body sways and rocks to heavy beat of the music instinctively. Dancing, like fucking, is something he's always been able to lose himself in. He'll be doing both before the sun comes up.

It's a long way from where he was a couple of weeks ago, praying that a sandstorm didn't surprise them before his unit made it back to base camp.

"Hey, pretty boy," the bouncer shouts from the doorway. Pointing at Alex, he adds, "Get your ass up here."

Smirking, Alex pushes through the line crowding the sidewalk. Bumping against Clive on his way through the door, he asks, "How'd you know I was out there?"

"Boss man put out a bolo." Clive claps Alex on the back. "Good to see you, brother. It's been too long."

"You too," Alex replies, leaning into Clive's body and taking a deep breath. Clive's scent brings him that much closer to home. "Longest twelve months of my life. If I don't see another desert for a hundred years, it'll still be too soon."

"That's the danger of the reserves. The mandatory two-weeks a year can always morph into a long way from home." Clive looks around and, smiling, nods towards the catwalks above the dance floor. "Jimmy's up there."

"You tell him I was here?"

"Nope. He said you'd be back tomorrow." 

Alex gives him a single nod. "That's what I told him. Wanted time enough to get my head around being home before I saw anyone, yanno?"

He holds back on adding _in case I was still too far out of my headspace to deal_. He's sure Clive will understand. Soldier-to-soldier, but even more as sub-to-sub.

"I do. Been down that road myself." Clive squeezes Alex's shoulder. "Jimmy's gonna tan your ass though, when he finds out you lied to him."

"Maybe that's what I was banking on." It sounds good even if it is half a klick away from the truth.

"Liar." The understanding flashing in Clive's eyes turns into mischief and he says, "Go use those ninja army skills and surprise him. The shock'll do the mean bastard some good."

*

Skirting the edge of the dance floor, Alex keeps to the shadows. Anticipation, worry, guilt. They're all whirling through him at a breakneck pace. He's not sure he can be what Jimmy expects. Not yet. Not this soon.

The closer he gets to the stairs, the more Alex wants to pick up his pace, wants to run to Jimmy's side and be enveloped in the scent and feel, the heat, of his lover, of his Dom. Swathed and shrouded in home.

He wants to run away just as much. Go back to his apartment and hide in the dark. Wait for the exhaustion to pull him under, and then for the nightmares to wake him up.

"Man up, Jones," Alex whispers to himself. "If you back out now, you'll just be wishing you'd stayed."

Because, above all the other emotions, Alex knows that he needs Jimmy. Needs to be held and fucked. Needs to let go and break. Needs the promise that Jimmy will be there to put him back together again.

Jimmy won't be able to chase the nightmares away. But he'll be there to help Alex through the crying and shaking, through the unadulterated fear of being back there again. Of reliving the terror of the unknown, of IEDs and insurgent attacks. Jimmy'll walk Alex away from the edge before he tips the fuck over it.

As long as he can get to Jimmy before he chickens the hell out.

Standing at the base of the steps, Alex swallows hard against the bile rising in his throat. He's on the verge of turning around, of retracing his footsteps until he's home and safe and alone.

But before he can make his feet listen to his brain, a tingle shoots down his spine and he knows he's been spotted. Slowly he lifts his head and meets Jimmy's gaze, watches as Jimmy's happy look morphs into one of concern.

Jimmy cants his head to the side and crooks his finger in the universal come here motion. 

Alex starts moving up the stairs, obeying Jimmy's request without thought.

*

"Welcome home, Alexander," Jimmy whispers, breath rushing hot and moist over Alex's ear. "I didn't expect you until tomorrow."

"Surprise," Alex replies, body going lax against Jimmy. Touch memory, he tells himself. His body knows he's safe and is responding accordingly. 

He wishes his mind would do the same thing.

"Indeed," Jimmy murmurs. "I'm thinking there's more to that explanation than just surprise."

Alex's lips twitch. "Maybe."

With a snort, Jimmy presses a kiss against Alex's temple. "It's been a year, Alex. But don't let that make you believe I won't eventually tan your ass for lying."

"Course not," Alex replies, the tension unfurling and loosing its hold on his muscles. The familiarity is more comforting than Alex anticipated.

"Wanna get out of here?"

Alex shakes his head. Now that he's in Jimmy's arms and the overwhelming need to escape is at bay again, the desire to move to the music is rising to the forefront. "Wanna dance first."

Jimmy leans back and barks out a laugh. "Should've seen that one coming."

There's nothing but truth in that. Seeing as dancing was how they came together to begin with.

"Let's go, boy," Jimmy says, pushing them off of the rail. "I'm sure Lisa will play your favorites as soon as she sees you on the floor."

*

Alex moans when Jimmy grinds against him. An hour on the dance floor and he's finally relaxed in his own skin. The need to be held down and fucked slams over him like a tidal wave. "Sir," he releases on a husky breath. "Please."

Jimmy nips the tender skin behind Alex's ear. "Please, what?"

"Take me home," Alex murmurs, a shudder spiraling through him. "Take me home and _own_ me."

"I own you already. Here, or there." Jimmy's voice is gruff, a thick mixture of ownership and tenderness, of love and possessiveness. Warm fingers dance along the gold circling Alex's neck. "Until you break this chain, you are mine. No matter where you are, were, or will be."

"Prove it," Alex whispers. "I need… I can't remember…" He stops and swallows. "There's too much noise in my head. It keeps sneaking up on me…"

Behind Alex, Jimmy stops dancing and forces him to turn around. Cupping Alex's face in his hands, he leans in and brushes soft kisses over Alex's lips.

"Better," Jimmy says after Alex falls silent. Kissing Alex one more time, Jimmy turns them towards the door. "Time to go home, boy."

"Thank you," Alex says, leaning into Jimmy's one-armed embrace.

*

"So," Alex says, breaking the silence five minutes into the drive to Jimmy's place. "Don't tie me up. I have to be able to –" _Run. Escape. Return fire._ "– breathe."

Curling his free hand over Alex's thigh, Jimmy nods. "Okay. What else?"

"Um," Alex hums, thinking. "Might want to stay away from blindfolds and ear plugs, too."

"Makes sense," Jimmy replies. "You're still in watch mode. Seeing and hearing what's coming at you is necessary right now."

"Yeah, maybe." Alex licks his lips. "Just, I miss our routine, the understanding. The give and take of wants and needs. I need to be able to let go."

"You'll get that." Jimmy slows down and turns onto a residential street. "How about your cuffs?"

Circling his left wrist with the fingers on his right hand, Alex smirks. He's missed the feel of his cuffs. The tight bands of leather always there and reminding him of who he belongs to. "Want your cuffs."

They smile at each other. It's an old joke between them, how the cuffs belong to both of them for the very same reason. Belonging. Ownership. Two people joined together to form a whole.

Pulling into his driveway, Jimmy kills the engine. 

"A nice, easy night, Alexander. Nothing too serious." Jimmy drags a finger over the shadowed edge of Alex's jaw. "Time to relearn each other."

*

Alex strips as soon as he crosses the threshold. It's a rule, one he's eager to get back to. He folds his clothes and sets them on the side table, tucks his shoes against the wall beneath it. It's normal and right in a way he hasn't had for over a year, since they deployed him to that hellhole of a war zone.

He slowly sinks to his knees and, hands resting on his thighs, lets out a stuttered breath.

Scratching his fingers through Alex's hair, Jimmy says, "Such a pretty display for me. You shaved today. Well done, boy."

The buzz of anxiety weakens, and Alex sinks a little further into his subspace. He knows this. Knows the expectations upon him and the outcomes of both success and failure. So unlike the past year, when nothing except the unforeseen was guaranteed. He grunts as Jimmy tugs gently on his hair, his cock filling and jerking against his thigh.

"Upstairs, Alexander. Our bedroom," Jimmy says, "not the playroom."

"Yes, sir." Alex rolls easily to his feet and double times it up the stairs.

He stops short as soon as he's in the bedroom. Aside from the pictures of him, those he sent from the desert in full combat gear, nothing about the room has changed. The walls are still a deep midnight blue, offset by the oversized, white walnut furniture. The dark walls surround him, soothing edges that he hadn't realized were frayed.

"It's the same," Alex says.

"Did you think I would change it without your input?" Jimmy steps in close behind Alex. "No matter that you insist on keeping that apartment, this is our home, Alexander. The place where we've shared and laughed and loved. Where we've argued and said our good-byes. It is where we will get reacquainted and make new memories. Keeping it the same connected me with you."

"I still fit here." Alex feels the heat of a blush rushing his cheeks. He hadn't meant to let that inane comment slip out.

"Jesus." Jimmy's arms wrap around Alex's waist, the sleeve of Jimmy's silk shirt dragging slick and smooth over the bare skin of Alex's abdomen. "That should have never been a concern of yours."

"It wasn't often." Alex rolls his shoulders in a slow shrug. "But then there were the long days, the ones that went on for forty, forty-five hours. All sorts of stupid shit would creep in then."

"You don't just fit here," Jimmy whispers. "You _belong_ here."

Alex is beginning to remember that.

Stepping back and landing a soft slap on Alex's ass, Jimmy says, "Go start the shower."

"I, ah, made sure I was clean before I came to the club." Alex steps further away from Jimmy and looks over his shoulder. "Inside and out."

Arousal flares in Jimmy's eyes. "And while I appreciate the initiative, that is my pleasure, Alexander. One I will be taking back tomorrow."

The idea of lying on the ridiculously decadent shower bench, holding himself open, first for Jimmy's probing fingers and then the nozzle of an enema, sends a bone-deep rush of _want_ through Alex. "Yes, sir."

"Good boy," Jimmy murmurs, popping the buttons on his shirt. "Now, go make it nice and hot. You know how I like it."

Not _do you remember_ , but _you know_. The confidence Jimmy has in him bolsters Alex's in himself. He nods once and moves into the bathroom.

*

Shower damp, Alex rides the push of Jimmy's hand and tumbles into the bed. "On your back, boy."

Flipping over, Alex scoots until he's in the middle of the bed. "God, I missed this bed."

Jimmy chuckles softly. "Just the bed?"

"Nope," Alex says, then grins. "But the bed featured prominently."

"Brat," Jimmy says, taking the space on Alex's right. He reaches towards the bedside table, opening and then closing the top drawer quickly. Two sets of black cuffs dangle from his fingers. "Ready?"

Alex nods once. "Yes, please."

Tossing the larger cuffs to the foot of the bed, Jimmy drags his hands over Alex's chest and then down the length of Alex's right arm. He takes his time, kissing the palm of Alex's hand and then, holding Alex's gaze, buckling the wide leather band around Alex's wrists. "Good?"

A series of rapid-fire tremors rush through Alex. "Fuck, yeah."

Smirking, Jimmy repeats the process with Alex's left arm. "You're mine, boy. Your place is by my side, in our bed. Do not ever doubt that again."

"No," Alex stops and swallows against the tightness of his throat. "No, sir. Never again."

Slowly, Jimmy makes his way down Alex's torso, touching and tasting. 

"There aren't any scars," Alex whispers. "I wasn't wounded."

"Not physically, you weren't," Jimmy replies. "And I'm not looking for scars."

"Aren't you?"

Jimmy pinches the meaty flesh of Alex's thigh. "You questioning me, Alexander?"

"No." Then, "Maybe." And then, when Jimmy arches a brow, "Yes."

"You're more defined." Jimmy rubs his hands over Alex's thighs. "More muscular than when you left."

"Desert living is hard work," Alex replies.

"It's a good look for you." Jimmy picks up the ankle cuffs and, sitting between the spread of Alex's feet, buckles first one and then the other into place. "Don't take them off. When I'm ready for them to come off, I'll do it."

Rebellion rises up in Alex. He's been on his own for twelve months. He trusted his unit to help keep him alive, but the day-to-day decisions were his. 

"Easy," Jimmy whispers. "Use your words if you need to, nothing wrong with that."

A flash of anger zips over Alex's nerves, rushing through him and then leaving him in a split second. "I'm sorry."

"Don't," Jimmy says, pushing Alex's legs wide and crawling into the space between them. "Don't apologize. You have nothing to apologize for."

Alex disagrees. There's a fuckton he needs to apologize for. He's guilty of more than Jimmy could possibly know. War does that to a person.

"Nothing. You've _nothing_ to apologize for," Jimmy says again. "You survived."

Survived. That was the last thing Jimmy had demanded of him. _You will survive this, boy. You will not let them send you home to me in a box._

"You will not apologize for surviving," Jimmy repeats. "And what you came home with? We'll work through together. Clear?"

Together. It's exactly what he's been missing. Them, moving and working together. "Crystal." 

Jimmy growls low in his throat.

"Crystal, _sir_ ," Alex amends. 

Pushing Alex's hands over his head, Jimmy blankets Alex with his body. He rolls his hips slowly, bringing their cocks together and then apart and then together again. Sweat breaks over Alex's chest and a begging rush of _yes, need, want_ tumbles from his mouth.

"That's it," Jimmy says, undulating his body with a steady pace. "Let go for me."

Surrounded by Jimmy's scent, trapped beneath the weight of his body, Alex starts to tremble. "Oh, shit."

"Let it _all_ go, Alexander."

The shaking intensifies, a sudden desperation swelling within him. "Stop… god, please…"

Leaning in, Jimmy whispers, "I am so proud of you. Wearing that uniform with such dignity, doing what was required of you. Coming home to me."

Thrusting down fast and harsh, Jimmy sinks his teeth into Alex's shoulder.

"Fuck," Alex shouts, his cock jerking and spurting between them. Blinking against tears, he repeats himself. "Fuck."

Jimmy drops down, letting his weight push Alex deeper into the mattress. "That's it, boy. Let it out so we can see what's left and move on from there."

Despite Alex's best effort, the quiet flow of tears turn into heaving sobs. Safe in Jimmy's embrace, he cries himself to sleep.

∴ _In war, there are no unwounded soldiers._ ∴  
José Narosky   



End file.
